


Deep In The Rough And Tumble

by Jadzia_Bear



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, F/M, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-01-03 15:25:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1072068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadzia_Bear/pseuds/Jadzia_Bear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy Lewis and James “Bucky” Barnes are two of the most prolific bank robbers in the west. They drink and flirt their way across the country, staying one step ahead of Steve Rogers, the U.S. Marshal sent to apprehend them. But when Rogers finally catches up with them, bringing them in is the last thing on his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nessismore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nessismore/gifts).
  * Inspired by [bucky/darcy/steve western au graphic](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/31804) by nessismore (the-yellow-ranger). 



> This fic was inspired by a gorgeous graphic on tumblr made by the talented nessismore. The summary for this fic is almost word-for-word the blurb that accompanies the graphic and I’m grateful to have her permission to use it here.
> 
> Endless thanks to my betas dhauren and Ella Greggs. Think of this as a handful of scenes from a longer story I’ll never write, rather than a whole story unto itself (in other words, this is just a flashfic that got out of hand and had absolutely no pre-planning, oops). 
> 
> The title is a Firefly quote, because if not for the Firefly fic I’d written, I never would have been brave enough to try my hand at a western AU.

U.S. Marshal Steve Rogers dropped a couple of coins into the tin cup of the decrepit old man on the front step on his way into the saloon. By the time he’d walked the ten paces to an empty stool at the bar, he had his quarry in his sights.

Darcy Lewis and James “Bucky” Barnes, the most prolific bank robbers west of the Mississippi, sat at a corner table, a bottle of whiskey between them. As usual they were in high spirits, each a whirlwind of wanton energy spurred on by the other.

As Steve watched, Bucky made a grab for Darcy’s bosom. She gasped in mock affront and slapped him lightly on the cheek. His head fell back as he laughed. She poked him in the chest and said something Rogers couldn’t hear, smirking all the while.

For the sake of appearances, Steve took a seat and ordered a scotch and water. The proprietors of the establishment, a kindly-looking older couple, didn’t need him waving a piece about in the middle of the afternoon and chasing away all their patrons. He would wait until Darcy and Bucky stepped outside, and then he’d get them at barrel’s end and make his arrest. They’d slipped through his fingers twice already, he wasn’t going to let it happen a third time.

It didn’t take long for the pair to spot him. Barnes tipped his Stetson from across the room and smiled like the sly bastard he was, then took a pull straight from the whiskey bottle. A drop of liquor caught the light as it slid down his chin.

The two criminals were getting far too cocky. There was nothing subtle about the way Darcy leaned forward over the table, putting her ample cleavage on display and fixing Steve with her bedroom eyes. As Steve stared, the tip of her tongue traced the contour of her bottom lip. It felt like Steve’s untouched scotch was already snaking through his veins as she bit down on the dampened lip with a twinkle in her eye. 

He could feel Bucky’s eyes on him as he watched Darcy. It heated his skin in ways that didn’t make sense. For months they’d been playing this game of cat and mouse, except now he was starting to feel less and less like the cat.

He wrenched his gaze away and stared resolutely at the amber liquid in his glass as he pulled a steadying breath down deep into his lungs.

When he looked up again, they were gone.

Steve lunged to his feet and shoved his way through the batwing doors of the saloon, out onto the road.  They were already tearing down the main street and out of town, their horses kicking up a cloud of dust behind them. Darcy even had the audacity to blow him a kiss over her shoulder before they disappeared from view around a corner.

The only other person paying any attention to the escaping fugitives was the beggar, now up on his bandy legs and whooping joyfully after the pair, his tin cup stuffed to the brim with cash.

Steve wasted no time getting to his own mount, yanking on the reins to release the slip knot from the hitching rail and vaulting up into the saddle. He kicked the gelding into a canter and took off after his quarry, dust and the western sun stinging his eyes.

* * *

He’d always known this was how he’d die, alone on the plains, life seeping out of him through some wound or other, no cross to mark his final place of rest.

Snowflakes swirled around him, the wind tugging them about in all directions, too sparse and restless to settle into drifts. Steve had been chilled to the bone long before he'd taken a Comanche arrow to the thigh. He grew colder still as his blood seeped through the makeshift bandages and slid down the saddle to sprinkle a trail behind him, but he'd stopped shivering some time ago.

His mount trudged diligently on, Lewis and Barnes’ tracks laid out before them as a mocking invitation. Fresh, too, he must be so close, for all the good it would do him now.

The pounding throb of his wound had long since outgrown its point of origin. His whole body ached with every pulse beat. It was almost a relief when his fingers refused to grip the pummel any longer.

The world tipped sideways and the ground rushed up to meet him. Not long now and death would take him, leave his carcass to be picked clean by the crows, his bones to be carried off by the coyotes.

* * *

Steve was warm, warm in a way he never expected to be again. His eyelids were heavy and it was so tempting to leave them closed, to revel in the close and comforting warmth and the dawning realisation that he was still alive, but with concerted effort he forced his eyes open.

Canvas, a ridge pole: the inside of a tent. Now that his eyes were open, his other senses were awakening too. The smell of someone else’s hair on the pillow next to him, the smooth press of bare skin against his side, the weight of several blankets spread over him.

“Well, hey there, Marshal,” a female voice near his ear whispered. “Nice to see those baby blues again.”

He knew that voice even before he turned his head to look at her. He wanted to tell Darcy that her own big blue eyes were a welcome sight, but his throat felt rusted through.

He tried to push himself up onto his elbows, but gave up almost instantly when the movement set off a spike of pain through his thigh.

“Easy there, law man,” came a deeper voice from his other side. Bucky. “You’re in no fit state to be going anywhere.”

Had they found him, half-frozen and bleeding out, and taken him in?

He was aware of the fabric of his drawers, but nothing else, between him and the blankets. His saviours (or were they his captors?) must have been similarly dressed, judging by the bare legs and sides he could feel against his own. A cautious wiggle of his toes told him that their attempts to keep frostbite at bay using the heat of their own bodies had been successful.

He opened his mouth to speak, but his tongue was stuck to his teeth.

“Get the water, darlin’,” Bucky said to Darcy. He slid an arm underneath Steve’s shoulders, exerting a gentle pull to help him sit up while Darcy held the canteen to his lips.

He swallowed greedily, tongue loosening as it moistened, heedless of the trickle escaping the corner of his mouth.

“You saved me?” he asked hoarsely, once they had all settled back down onto the bedroll.

“You were cold as a corpse when we found you, but I think we’ve just about thawed you out.” Bucky gently rubbed Steve’s cool fingers between warm, dry palms. The motion felt vaguely familiar. He must have been doing it while Steve was asleep as well. "I wanted to leave you in the dirt, but she insisted we go back for you," Bucky said, though the glint in his eye said differently.

"Liar," Darcy said blithely, propping her head up on her hand. “You should’ve seen him fretting over that leg wound of yours,” she said to Steve. “He cleaned it up good, though, stitched it up nice and neat.” She leaned close to his ear and lowered her voice conspiratorially. “He’s very good with his hands."

Steve felt as much as heard Bucky’s quiet chuckle.

Aside from a few tendrils curling around her face, Darcy’s long dark hair hung over her bare shoulder in a loose braid. She wasn’t wearing a shift and he was suddenly very aware of the soft press of her breasts against his arm every time she took a breath. His mouth dry again, Steve swallowed hard and shifted his gaze to Bucky’s muscular frame against his other side, only to find it similarly distracting. He forced his mind back to the issue that seemed the most pressing.

“Thought you’d be glad to be rid of me,” he ventured, voice smoother now.

“Only as glad as you’d be to see us behind bars,” Bucky said. He also propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at Steve, brown bangs falling over clear blue-grey eyes. “You could have arrested us half a dozen times in the last month. Why didn’t you?”

“It was more fun to watch you make fools of all those money-grubbing bankers?” Steve tried. He couldn’t even articulate to himself why he felt so drawn to this pair.

Darcy’s lips twitched with a smile. She nudged her way under Steve’s arm and pillowed her head on his shoulder.

“The way I see it, the three of us have been travelling companions for a good while now.” Bucky stopped rubbing Steve’s fingers and cradled his hand loosely against his chest, thumb drifting absently over Steve’s palm. It was as if the motion of rubbing life back into Steve’s extremities was now so ingrained he did it without thinking. “You may have been shadowing us like a stray wolf cub instead of travelling beside us, but we’ve gotten used to seeing your silhouette on the horizon.”

“What Bucky’s trying to say is we’ve grown quite fond of you, Marshal,” Darcy said, hooking a leg over the hip of his uninjured side. “And I think maybe you’re rather fond of us too, what do you think?” she murmured, her lips brushing his ear. It sent a delicious shiver across his skin.

It had been a long time since he’d been in a bed with a woman, and never with a man. Not like this, at least. Not in a way that felt like this, with Bucky’s gentle touches and firm body just as seductive as Darcy’s soft curves and more obvious advances.

He was warm and alive, and it was a heady feeling to finally be with them after watching them from afar for weeks on end. Being the focus of the affection he’d seen them lavish on each other was overwhelming, so perhaps it shouldn’t have surprised him when his cock twitched against Darcy’s thigh.

She chuckled. “Hold your horses, Marshal. We’re gonna let you recover some first. You’ll be needing your strength back if you’re gonna keep up with the both of us.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should start with an apology. Only this chapter is new content (and not even brand new--I’ve posted it on tumblr before). It’s a bit of smut I wrote ages ago that fits within the continuity of this fic that I only just got around to tidying up and posting. Chapter 3 is now just the end of what was chapter 1, with edits.  
> Warning-wise, this chapter has very mild internalised homophobia and very mild dub-con, I suppose. But this is me, Queen of Fluff, so there’s really nothing to worry about! Sorry for the change in tense :3

It’s been a good day. Steve spent most of it out in the fresh air—a pleasant change after being confined to the tent for much of the week. The arrow wound in his thigh is healing as well as can be expected under Bucky’s careful ministrations, and he’s getting to know his would-be captors better with each passing day.

Steve waits to fall asleep, the smell of the wool blanket and the canvas of the tent filling his nose as he listens to the soft breathing on either side of him. With his head turned to the right he can see the faintest outline of Darcy’s shape in black on black against the wall of the tent. She traces idle patterns on his chest with her fingertips while Bucky cradles Steve’s hand against his chest. He’s done it every night since they found him, a holdover from the day they spent using the heat of their own bodies to bring him back from hypothermia.

Steve keeps meaning to tell them to stop acting so familiar with him, but the longer he waits the harder it gets. At first he told himself that he would make his wishes known later, when he wasn’t so ill, but as time passes he becomes more and more certain that he doesn’t want them to stop.

Instead, he finds himself anticipating Bucky’s lingering touches as he tends to his injury or helps him move in and out of the tent, or being tempted to return Darcy’s impromptu cheek kisses and lingering gazes.

But his mama raised a good Christian boy, and there’s no doubt in his mind that what he’s feeling is wrong. Darcy is Bucky’s woman, and hell, Bucky’s a man. Steve doesn’t need to check his bible to know what his priest would say about that.

Still, when Darcy starts dropping feather kisses on his bare shoulder in the darkness, he can’t bring himself to make her stop. The kisses get more purposeful as they move up his neck, and Steve wonders if Bucky is awake, if he can tell what’s going on.

The fingers nestled in Bucky’s palm spasm minutely in internal protest against Darcy’s advances, against betraying his new friend, but Bucky’s hand closes over Steve’s with a reassuring squeeze.

“Bucky...” Steve’s eyelids flutter at the heat of Darcy’s mouth on the sensitive spot below his ear. The bedclothes whisper as she comes up on one elbow, then onto her knees, so she has better access to the stubbled skin of his jaw.

“She’ll make you feel real good if you let her,” Bucky assures him. “I know your leg still hurts some, but she’ll be real careful. Won’t you, darlin’?”

“Mm-hmm,” Darcy hums through a kiss. Then her mouth closes over Steve’s, bring the discussion to an end.

Steve is so caught up in the sensation of her pillow-soft lips and playful tongue that he barely registers the way his free hand goes straight to her hip. He certainly doesn’t miss the next part, though, when she takes that hand and slides it up to her breast. With only the thin fabric of her shift between them, her jutting nipple is easy to find. He drags his thumb across it and she rewards him with a soft moan.

The darkness of the tent takes on a timelessness as Steve surrenders to the exquisite joy of Darcy’s body, her mouth, her tongue. He’s already hard when she skims one hand down over his stomach and into his drawers.

Cool fingers encircle him and his hips jerk upwards before he can stop them, pain blooming through his thigh. He grunts and forces himself to be still, focusing on the sensation of her hand gliding up and down his length as the pain fades. There’s a strange kind of pleasure in schooling himself to stillness under her touch.

Steve doesn’t know when it started, but Bucky is pressing small kisses to Steve’s fingers, his palm, the inside of his wrist. Steve pretends not to notice. It makes him harder still, despite the fact that it’s so wrong (or perhaps because of it, a traitorous corner of his lust-filled brain suggests).

Darcy has trailed wet kisses all the way down to his bellybutton before he registers what she has in mind next, but it’s just enough warning to prepare himself and he manages, somehow, to hold still as she runs her tongue up the length of his cock. Shivers race across his skin as she teases him with her warm, wet mouth.

Steve is so entranced by every movement of Darcy’s tongue and lips that he hardly even notices Bucky moving beside him. At first he becomes distantly aware of the small, repetitive movements that must be Bucky’s hand on his own cock, but it’s not until he hears Bucky’s soft growl of “My turn,” that he realises Bucky has shifted down to where Darcy is.

Darcy comes off with a wet pop and a large, calloused hand grips Steve by the root.

“No!” he gasps out, because this is wrong, no matter how badly he wants it, but before he can say another word, Darcy’s lips clamp down on his. Then Bucky’s hot, eager mouth engulfs him and there’s nothing Steve can do to stop his hips jerking skyward.

Fire shoots through his leg and he shouts his pain into Darcy’s mouth. Bucky pins his hips down, being careful to avoid his injury, and laves at his cock with his tongue, rough and urgent, then takes him all the way down to the back of his throat.

Darcy strokes Steve’s cheek with her thumb and gently pinches his nipple with her other hand. The next sound he makes is embarrassingly close to a whimper.

“It’s okay,” she soothes. “We’ve all done far worse than this, the lives we’ve led. If we’re goin’ to hell, this ain’t gonna be the reason why.”

And it makes enough sense, he supposes, at least in the moment. Surely killing folk, even in the name of the law, is much worse in the scheme of things than giving in to the pure ecstasy coursing through his veins.

His want is so strong he can barely think straight, and he slides a hand into Darcy’s hair, plunging his tongue into her mouth. She opens to him, welcoming his possession of her mouth.

She takes his hand and guides it between her thighs to where she’s already slick with her own need. His fingertips glide back and forth over velvet-soft skin, and she moans sinfully when he sinks two fingers into her.

He presses a calloused thumb to her swollen clit and holds his arm firm, grateful that she seems more than happy to work herself on his hand, because the way Bucky is curling his tongue around him and swallowing him deep is making it hard to concentrate on much else.

Bucky’s hand is on his own cock again, the movements small and frantic. Steve’s fingers itch to touch him, to learn what he feels like and give back some of the pleasure he’s receiving, but he can’t quite bring himself to do it, not this time.

Darcy’s breathy moans grow louder and louder as she fucks Steve’s fingers, then suddenly she goes silent. Every muscle in her body tenses and stills, except for her core spasming around his fingers.

No doubt Bucky knows what this means, because moments later his back bows with his own release and he groans around Steve’s cock. Then he sucks, hard, and Steve can almost feel himself fall to pieces as he comes into Bucky’s mouth.

Bucky swallows, then gently releases him, the night air cool in the absence of his hot mouth. Steve pants into the darkness, listening to the ragged breathing on either side of him.

Darcy is the first to snuggle back in beside him, humming with contentment as she pillows her head on his shoulder.

Bucky takes a little longer to lie back down. When he does, he leaves an inch of bedroll between them, as if he’s not sure whether he’s still allowed the privilege of touching him.

The empty space at Steve’s side makes him ache in a way that has nothing to do with his injury. Without letting himself think about it, he slides an arm under Bucky’s shoulders and pulls him close enough to rest his forehead against Bucky’s temple.

Bucky sighs as he relaxes against Steve, and the three of them drift into a deep, peaceful sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, another tense change. I’m the worst! XP

_Some weeks later_

With Bucky plunging into him from behind and Darcy slick beneath his tongue, Steve’s vision exploded into stars.

Darcy was still shivering through her aftershocks on the bedroll beneath him when he rolled off to the side, taking Bucky with him. She turned to face him, humming with contentment as she kissed the taste of herself off him and brought their sweaty brows together.

Bucky slotted himself against Steve’s back. “That leg seems to be holding up pretty well,” he said. Steve could feel Bucky’s knowing smile against the skin of his shoulder.

“I heal fast, and Darcy was right, you’re good with your hands,” Steve answered with a knowing smile of his own. He reached back for Bucky’s arm and brought it round his waist, keeping his own hand over the top and threading their fingers together.

The wound on his leg was now a raised line of pink scar tissue, as long as an arrowhead was wide. The only thing that had marred his convalescence in their secluded campsite in the hills these past weeks was his concern over what he should do once he was healed. Joining Darcy and Bucky’s criminal lifestyle was unconscionable, but arresting them was just as unthinkable at this point.

His eyes drifted shut as his insides hummed with the now familiar combination of blissful contentment and distant trepidation.

“What?” Darcy murmured sleepily. He didn’t know what had given him away, perhaps he’d furrowed his brow.

“Just...don’t want this to end,” he murmured back.

“Steven, honey, don’t tell me you still got plans to arrest us?” Darcy said, eyes still closed. “And after all we’ve done for you,” she tsked.

“’Course not,” he said, squeezing Bucky’s fingers with one hand and hugging Darcy closer with the other. “But what do we do, then?”

Darcy moved back just enough so they could see each other properly. “As it happens, I’ve been giving this a little bit of thought. Our faces weren’t on those Wanted posters, were they, just our names?”

Steve nodded in confirmation.

“So,” Darcy said, “you go back, tell your chief some story about how you followed our tracks until you found our bodies at the bottom of a ravine or some such, then all we need to do is change our names, and—”

“Changing your identity isn’t as easy as scrawling yourself a new birth certificate—” Steve interrupted.

“We already know someone who’ll sort all that out,” Bucky said. He propped his head up on his hand and Steve shifted onto his back so he could see both of them. “He charges a lot,” Bucky continued, “but as it happens, we’re in possession of a saddlebag full of cash.”

“Then all you’ve got to do is deputise us,” Darcy finished with a self-impressed smiled. “You’ll catch your criminals ten times faster with our help. We know how they think.”

Steve considered the plan silently for a moment. “Could you be happy?” he asked them both. “Doing that sort of work?”

“It’s all about the chase with us, darlin’,” said Bucky. “Cat or mouse, don’t matter which, so long as there’s a hunt.”

“So, what do you say?” Darcy asked, eyes dancing with smug satisfaction.

“Saddle up, deputy. Time for round two,” he grinned, and pulled her in for a long kiss.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> So, uh *toes the dirt* I find smut really difficult to write, so if you found this to be anywhere above terrible feel free to let me know :3


End file.
